Reawaken My Heart
by West Wind
Summary: Quatre’s wife dies, and months after the funeral, the grieving Quatre takes Trowa up on his offer of refuge. His time at the circus helps the healing process, but when he returns home, he discovers that his once dead heart has been reawakened by one Mi


Reawaken My Heart   
By West Wind 

Pairing: 4xC   
Rating: PG   
Disclaimer: The Gundam Wing characters don't belong to me.   
Summary: Quatre's wife dies, and months after the funeral, the grieving Quatre takes Trowa up on his offer of refuge. His time at the circus helps the healing process, but when he returns home, he discovers that his once dead heart has been reawakened by one Miss Catherine Bloom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The casket was surrounded by a large group of people mourning the loss of their friend or family member, and in one case spouse as a few words were said before lowering the casket into the ground. Sniffles of people dealing with grief dotted the silence. As the casket disappeared from view, the blond man whispered his last farewell to his wife. 

The crowd slowly dispersed till only the blond accompanied by a tall bearded man and a couple of his sisters. 

"We should go home, Quatre," said one of the girls with compassion filled eyes. 

"Go on without me. Rashid will make sure I get back," he flatly countered. 

The girl was about to protest when the other stopped her. 

"We will see you at home," said the second sister as she pulled the other away. 

"Thanks, Sara," Quatre murmured as the two girls left. 

The two men stood there in silence for several minutes before a new figure approached. Rashid looked up at the sound of the approaching person and nodded. 

"Quatre," came a soft male voice. 

"Trowa?" said Quatre as he looked up at his friend. 

Quatre could see the sympathy in Trowa's eyes. They stood side by side looking at the open hole in the ground. 

"I feel so numb," confided Quatre. "I have since I lost her. It seems so unreal…" he trailed off. Quatre's eyes were fixed on the hole and a time of silence elapsed before Quatre spoke again. "Trowa, she's gone, and I miss her," he almost whimpered. 

"I know," whispered his friend as he slipped a comforting arm around Quatre's shoulders. 

The emotional floodgates opened inside the widower. Quatre sank to his knees, lifted his head to the sky, and cried out for the world to know his pain. The agony from the cry cut through Trowa like a knife. Trowa dropped before Quatre as Quatre buried his face in his hands and cried. Trowa pulled his friend into an embrace, and Quatre, lost in grief, cried on Trowa's shoulder. 

"I love her, Trowa. I lover her so much and now she is gone," Quatre muttered into Trowa's shoulder. "It hurts. It hurts so much to know I will never feel her touch or hear her laugh again," he moaned. 

"I know," Trowa answered as sobs racked Quatre's frame. 

Trowa knew all about his friend's feelings for his departed wife. He had been the one Quatre turned to when he needed to vent his frustrations and anger at the surprising news of his arranged marriage. He was the one Quatre talked through his jitters about meeting Rachel for the first time, and his growing feelings of love for his future bride as they got to know each other. Trowa knew his friend would take Rachel's death hard and had come to be his support. 

Quatre's tears slowed then stopped. Trowa offered him a handkerchief as Quatre pulled away. After Quatre composed himself, he thanked Trowa almost mechanically. 

"That is what friends are for," Trowa offered. 

The three men made their way from the graveyard to the car to take Quatre home. 

~ 

His sisters were obviously relieved at Quatre's return and perplexed by the appearance of the tall silent man with him. Quatre quickly made introductions. The rest of the day Quatre found himself trying to be polite to the people offering him their sympathy and condolences when all he wanted to do was run from them or yell at them. No matter what they said, they did not know how he felt or what he was going through, and he would not be all right. Nothing would be all right ever again, and they did not seem to see that. A large part of his life was missing, and he felt like he was paralyzed as he tried to function. 

~ 

Trowa watched from his position leaning against one of the walls with arms crossed. He could tell his normally polite and caring friend was straining to hold his composure as well wishers bombarded him. He hoped Quatre would pull through this tragedy whole. It was too early to tell if he would or how long it would take. 

One of Quatre's sisters, the one who had been with him at the funeral, came to stand beside Trowa. 

"You were Quatre's best man at his wedding?" she asked. 

Trowa nodded an affirmative. 

"I knew you looked familiar, but it took me some time to remember," she added in a hushed voice everyone seemed to be using. "My name is Sara. So how long have you known my brother?" 

"Since we were fifteen," he answered briefly looking at the woman beside him. 

"I don't get to meet his friends often," she commented. "Where did you meet?" 

"Earth," Trowa concisely answered. 

Her eyes widened as she mentally made the connection between what her brother was doing on earth at that time in his life and who he would have made friends with. 

"Were you a…" she started to ask. 

"Pilot?" he finishes. "Yes." 

"Oh…" she said before directing her gaze to what Trowa was focused on. "I am worried about him too," she said while looking at her weary looking brother. "He has been so distant and unemotional since she died." 

"Hmm…" offered Trowa. "He'll come back in his own timing." 

"I hope you are right. I hate to see him like this, and I so long to see his glowing happy face once more. But, that will be a while," she sighed. 

~ 

The number of people in the house was thinning down. Quatre made his way to Trowa's side, the one person who would not demand that he talk or force a plethora of advice on him. He slumped against the wall trying to hide in the shadows like Trowa. He was tired and longed for this to end. 

"You could leave and find someplace quiet any time," Trowa sympathetically said. 

He knew Trowa was right but only shrugged. Quatre found the idea of being alone almost as bad as being here. He did not know where the happy medium was in this equation, but he knew he felt most comfortable when he was with his best friend. He did not have to put on a façade for Trowa. He did not have to hide what he was feeling. He could rant and rave, sit silently, or burst into tears or laughter, and the quiet man would either hold his silence or cut to the heart of the issue with a few well-chosen words. 

"How long are you staying?" asked Quatre. 

"I was planning on a week," stated Trowa, "if it is alright with you." 

Quatre nodded it was. 

"I think I need friends close by at the moment," said Quatre. 

They both watched the room's occupants murmuring among themselves. 

"Anything new with you?" Quatre asked in an attempt to distract himself. 

"Not a whole lot. Catherine started seeing a guy named Clark, but I don't think it will last." 

Quatre nodded at the news of the auburn haired woman. Over the years, they had met several times and had fallen into a comfortable friendship once previous misunderstandings had been addressed. 

"How about you?" Quatre asked Trowa. "Any one special?" 

"No." 

~ 

The week was over and Trowa was preparing to leave. Quatre shuffled into the room while Trowa packed. Trowa looked at him worried. 

"I can stay longer if you want," Trowa offered. 

"No," said Quatre, "you have commitments to meet. I'll be fine." 

Trowa nodded then fished around his bag for something. He handed it to Quatre. 

"Here is the schedule of where the circus will be. If you need to get away or someone to talk to, just stop by. There is always a place for you to stay with us." 

Quatre took the card, examined it and placed it in his pocket. 

"Thanks," he said. "I'll keep it in mind." 

Trowa finished packing, and Quatre saw him off. 

~ 

Quatre lay in their bed staring at the ceiling for another night. He had tried to bury himself in his work, but even that reminded him of her. She was always so supportive of him and would surprise him with bringing lunch to him at the office. The two would spend the next hour enjoying each others company before Quatre returned to work. Even after three months, everything reminded him of her. The house was the worst. There were little reminders of her throughout it. Even the bed he was in reminded him of her and the void she had left in his life. 

There was nothing he could do about her death. There was no one to blame or lash out at. He could not yell at the disease that caused it, and yelling at the doctors that did their best would not help. Nothing he could do would bring her back. 

Quatre decided on what he had to do. He got out of bed and started throwing cloths into a bag. He left messages to a few of his sisters, Rashid, and his secretary before heading out the door. 

~ 

Trowa stirred at the sound of someone knocking at his door in the early morning hours. He opened the door to find Quatre standing there. His normally well groomed friend was disheveled and rumpled. There were large circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he looked thinner than the last time he saw Quatre. 

"Quatre, come in," he invited. 

The weary man trudged into the trailer before collapsing in a seat. Trowa fixed his friend's favorite tea and set the cup before him before joining Quatre. Quatre held the cup between his hands and stared into the liquid as if it held the answers he needed. 

"Trowa, my heart feels dead," Quatre whimpered. "There is no hope in my life. The only reason I go on living is because I know Rachel would want me to," he sighed before looking at Trowa with lifeless eyes. 

Trowa could see the pain swimming in Quatre's features. He knew given time Quatre would find his balance once more, but currently time had to be waded through with all its barbs and thorns. 

"I had to get out of the house," said Quatre stirring his tea. "I had to get away from anything that reminds me of her, so I thought I would take you up on your offer, if it still stands," 

"It does," Trowa reassured. 

Quatre offered him a partial smile of thanks. 

"You look beat," observed Trowa. 

"I am," Quatre sighed. "I have not slept well since that day." 

"Finish your tea, then crawl into my bed," ordered Trowa. 

"What about you?" asked Quatre. 

"It's time I get up and moving," he answered gesturing to the coloring horizon. 

Once he was sure his friend was settled in he went about his daily routine. 

~ 

Catherine emerged from the second bedroom sleepily rubbing her eyes. She noticed Trowa's door was still shut and wondered if he was feeling all right. She cautiously opened the door to peek in. The shades were closed tight letting no light in, but she could make out a form in the bed. Slowly moving forward and leaving the door open for light, she peered at the sleeping form. The head of blond hair resting on the pillow immediately proved that it was not Trowa in the bed. Upon closer inspection she id him as Quatre. Even in sleep his features looked haggard. 

"Poor boy," she thought before exiting the room. 

She quietly pulled the door shut behind her and moved into the main living area just as Trowa returned. 

"When did he arrive?" she asked. 

"This morning," Trowa answered. 

She nodded 

"He doesn't look too good," she added. 

"He is taking Rachel's death hard and not sleeping well." 

"Can you blame him," said Catherine sympatheticaly. 

"No, but he needs to sleep. That is why I slipped something to help him sleep into his tea," explained Trowa with a slight smirk. 

"I bet it would not hurt him to sleep the clock around and then some," she said comparing the Quatre she witnessed today to the one in the past. 

~ 

Quatre awoke to the smell of something baking. He took a deep breath savoring the wonderful aroma through his sleep-fogged mind before pulling the blankets around him and falling back to sleep. 

~ 

Catherine took the pie out of the oven to cool for dinner. As she started working on dinner, she heard Trowa's bedroom door open. She looked up as Quatre shuffled into the room. His cloths were wrinkled from sleeping in them. He looked more rested but his eyes showed the fatigue he still felt. He weakly smiled at her. 

"Did you sleep well?" she asked. 

"Better than I have in a while," he replied as he sat at the table. 

"Will you cut up the broccoli for me?" she asked. 

She waited for his affirmative before placing the vegetable and cutting board before him. Unsure what else to say to their quest, she busied herself in the small kitchen. 

"I'm done," he quietly said standing behind her with cutting board full of broccoli. 

She turned slightly startled. She grabbed a pan. 

"Put it in here," she instructed. 

Trowa entered as Quatre finished his task. He nodded to the two. 

"Everything is packed up," Trowa informed Cathy. 

"We setting out at the normal time?" asked Cathy. 

Trowa nodded. 

"Dinner is ready," Catherine announced once the broccoli was done. 

~ 

Around five in the morning Trowa awakened Quatre. Quatre opened his eyes and blinked at Trowa standing beside the upper bunk in which he slept. 

"Time to get up," he said. 

Quatre groaned and tried to roll over as his friend continued to pester him to rise. Trowa chuckled at Quatre's reluctance before pulling the blankets away. 

"OK, OK, I'm moving," murmured Quatre as he dangled his feet over the bed edge. 

Quatre managed to get himself up and moving. He rummaged through his bag for something to ware. 

Quatre stepped out of the trailer and was hit with the blast of cold air. He immediately started shivering and rubbed his arms. He could not believe the temperature change. Yesterday it had been a comfortable 18° C to below zero today with frost on the ground. 

Catherine approached wearing a heavy flannel and blue jeans. 

"You need something warmer than that," she observed pointing to his button down shirt and vest. "Here I'll get you something warmer." 

Quatre followed Catherine back into the trailer. She fished around in Trowa's closet and pulled out a heavy sweater. Quatre found the sweater thrust into his arms. 

"That should keep you warm." 

~ 

Almost an hour latter, Quatre had on the sweater and was standing in the frosty morning air by a truck hooked to Trowa and Catherine's trailer. 

"Here, Trowa said you would prefer tea," said Catherine as she placed a Styrofoam cup with lid in his hand. 

Quatre watched as Catherine climbed into the passenger side of the truck with another cup she handed to Trowa. 

"Climb on in," said Catherine to Quatre. 

Quatre climbed up into the cab pulling the door shut behind him. The three of them settled into their seats, Trowa flipped on the truck lights signaling they were ready, and waited for the caravan to start moving. Soon they were rolling. 

Quatre stared out the window at the coloring sky while sipping on his tea. The sound of the truck filled the cab between the three silent people. Once the sun was up Quatre noticed Catherine working on a crossword puzzle. 

"I think the answer to five down is defenestration," he offered. (1) 

"Thanks," said Catherine after looking at the item. 

She filled in the blanks and moved on to the next item. Before long, the two were huddled together working on the puzzle. 

"Look," pointed out Catherine as she glanced around their surroundings. 

Quatre looked where the woman pointed. There on either side of them, the walls of exposed layers of limestone where water normally trickled out hung stelagtights of frozen water. They were beautiful hanging on the rock face glistening in the sunlight. 

The radio crackled to life. 

"Team F is stopping at the next rest stop," announced the leader of their section of the caravan. 

Trowa expertly maneuvered the truck into the rest area and parked it. The circus personnel got out, stretched, and went to the restroom. The temperature outside had not changed much. Quatre could still see his breath hang in the air. 

"You want me to drive?" Catherine asked Trowa. 

"No, I'm fine," he softly answered before climbing back behind the wheel. 

Catherine popped into the trailer and returned with a container of water and a bag before climbing into the cab, shutting the door. Quatre wondered what she had brought with her. Once they were moving again, Catherine started shuffling through the contents of her bag. 

"What are you two in the mood for?" she asked. 

Quatre looked at her confused until she pulled out a stack of books. 

"I have the collection of Sherlock Homes storied, **The Lord of the Rings**, **Over Sea Under Stone**," she continued to list off a few more titles. 

Quatre watched her read the titles off and noticed she skipped one called **Reawaken my Heart**. From the title, he guessed it was a romance and the reason she didn't list it. 

"Why don't we pick up where we left off in the Sherlock Homes series, Cathy," answered Trowa. 

"OK," she bubbled before putting the other books away. She opened the book at the marker and began to read, "The Case of…" 

As Catherine finished the mystery, white flakes began to fall from the sky. The fluffy ice crystals drifted around them slowly collecting on the road. The flow of traffic suddenly changed as every one hit their breaks and moved at a crawl. 

Among the extended groups of the caravan, no reason for the slowing could be found except it was the first real snow of the season. It took them 45 minutes of sitting in stop and go traffic before they started moving at the speed limit. 

During their time of crawling along the interstate, Catherine started the next case. Halfway into it her voice started to go, so Quatre offered to read. His gentle voice filled the cab with the tale. 

Through the day, the slowdown of the heavy traffic occurred twice more causing delays. The manager instructed everyone to drive till 12 AM to make up time they had lost with the slowdowns. 

As evening approached and they stopped for dinner around eight. Quatre waited in the cab for the others. A moment later Catherine climbed in behind the wheel. Quatre looked at her questioningly as she readied to pull out. 

"Trowa is catching a few hours of sleep in the trailer," she supplied. 

Quatre acknowledged the wisdom of it before they pulled out. As they followed the truck in front of him, Quatre's mind began to wander. Today was the first day in three months that everything did not remind him of Rachel. He had thought of her several times during the day. There was always a part of his mind that thought of her, and a part of his dead heart that cherished her, but today the pain did not make him want to crumble. 

"Are you still with us?" Catherine asked. 

He briefly smiled at her. 

"Not totally," he replied honestly. 

"You know it's your job to make sure I stay awake," she teasingly informed him. 

"Oh… how?" 

"Talk to me." 

"About?" 

"Whatever." 

Quatre paused thoughtfully as he considered a topic of conversation. 

"How long have you been with the circus?' he asked once he realized he did not know much about his friend's sister. 

"Forever," she said. 

"That is a long time." 

She laughed, "My parents were performers before they were killed so I was born into the business. Since their death, the circus is all I know." 

They talk the time away. 

A sudden pop was heard followed by a thump, thump sound. The truck wanted to veer into the other lane of traffic as Catherine struggled to keep it under control. 

Quatre was quickly at her side helping her pull the vehicle over. 

"Trowa? Catherine? What happened?" came across the radio. 

Catherine picked up the receiver and replied. 

"I think we blew a tire, but don't know until we check it out." 

"We will stop and wait on you," the man on the other end said. 

"No, go on. We will catch up," she insisted. 

Quatre had already gotten out and joined Trowa in charging the tire. 

They finally joined the others much later that night at the stopping point. 

~ 

Quatre held open the door while Trowa carried Catherine into their trailer. The three of them had just spent the entire afternoon in the hospital emergency room after Catherine injured herself. 

The doctor said she had a fracture in her leg. He did what needed done to stabilize the led and told her to stay off of it and keep it elevated for the first day or so. She would need a set of crutches to get around. 

Trowa sat her on the small sofa with her foot propped up. Catherine protested, but Trowa ordered her to stay put. 

"You heard the doctor," he warned. "Quatre, keep an eye on her while I see if I can find out what happened to the crutches we had around here." 

Catherine growled, "Trowa!" as he left. 

Once he was out of sight, she tried to get up. 

"No, you don't," said Quatre as he gently pushed her back. 

"I have to make dinner, and I feel fine," she said. 

"That is because you are so loaded up on painkillers you wouldn't feel it if you cut you hand off," Quatre pointed out. 

"But dinner…" pouted the drugged Catherine. 

"I'll fix it," said Quatre. 

"Do you know how to cook?" she asked. 

"No," he embarrassingly answered. "But you can tell me what to do." 

"Your cute when you blush," observed Catherine patting Quatre's cheek. "Soup should be easy enough." 

It was. Catherine told him what to do and Quatre busied himself in the small kitchen. By the time he put it together to simmer, Catherine was out. 

"The painkillers finally knocked you out," said Quatre to the unconscious Catherine. "I bet you would be more comfortable in your own bed." 

With that Quatre scooped her up and carried her to her small room. He placed her on the bed and found a spare blanket to cover her with since it would be too awkward to hold her and pull back the covers. 

She rolled to her side and snuggled into the pillow. 

"Sleep well, Catherine," he whispered pushing hair from her face. 

Quatre shut the door behind him and went to check on the soup. 

"It smells good in here," said Trowa after entering the trailer some time later. "Where's Catherine?" he inquired looking around. 

"She fell asleep, so I put her in her bed," answered Quatre. 

Trowa peeked into the pot Quatre was stirring. 

"Catherine told me how to make it before the drugs knocked her out. Find the crutches?" 

"Sort of. Pete thinks he knows where they are and will let me know." 

Quatre nodded as he filled two bowls with the boiling soup and the two men ate their dinner in mostly silence. 

~ 

Catherine returned with groceries and a bunch of flowers with the aid of one of the other circus members. Her leg was heeling, but she still was using crutches to get around. She organized the flowers in a vase and sat it on the table to brighten things up as Quatre entered. He took one look at the arrangement and froze. 

"Gladiolus were her favorite flower," he murmured not taking his eyes off it. 

Catherine knew he was referring to Rachel. 

"I can get rid of them," she offered. 

"No, its ok. I have to get use to it eventually," he sighed while collapsing in a seat around the table. 

Catherine sat beside him resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"You know getting use to it does not mean forgetting her," Catherine whispered. 

"I know. It just does not seem like I am living without her, and every thought of her reminds me of it," he rested his head on the table. 

"I never meet Rachel, but from what Trowa has told me of her, I don't believe that she would want you to be haunted by her memory. She would want you to live your life to the fullest." 

"I know," he murmured into his arm. 

Catherine gently rubbed his back. 

"It's hard to live with a void left by loved ones, but we must. Then one day when you think of them the memories of good times outweigh the pain." 

He looked up into her gray blue eyes. 

"Your right," he said to her. "Thanks." 

There was a new determination in his eyes. 

The next day Quatre packed up his things and headed home. 

"It's time I head home," he said to his friends. "Bye." 

"Bye," said Catherine embracing the blond. "Come back and visit anytime." 

"I will," he assured. 

"Have a safe trip," said Trowa extending his hand for the handshake. "We are going to be in your area in about four months. Stop by." 

"I will," assured Quatre before picking up his bags and walking away. 

~ 

Quatre had been back for a month and a half and he was finding life falling into a routine. Rachel's absence no longer caused the extricating pain it had months ago. 

Quatre walked toward his office with a spring back in his step. He greeted his secretary before pausing at her desk. There on her desk was a vase of flowers with gladiolus in the arraignment. He gently ran a finger over the gladiolus' peddles. 

"They are beautiful aren't they," his secretary said. "My husband sent them to me for our anniversary." 

"They are beautiful," Quatre commented. "Happy anniversary." 

He moved into his office. The sight of Rachel's favorite flower did not cause pain but pleasant memories of her. Oddly the most prevalent thoughts were of Catherine. The caring look in her eyes as she comforted him still warmed his as he thought about it. He admired her sprit, her caring heart, and her love of life. Her face surrounded by reddish-brown curls kept appearing in his mind. He decided he should drop them a line. 

~ 

"Quatre, you're looking better," observed Trowa in his message sent in reply to Quatre's. "I am glad to hear how well things are going for you. Life at the circus is the same, travel, set up, practice, perform, tear down, and repeat. Catherine's fracture has healed and is doing well. She sends her greetings. I look forward to seeing you when we are on L4. Later." 

Trowa's face disappeared from the screen as the recorded message ended. 

Quatre found himself anxious to see Trowa and his sister again. 

~ 

Quatre knew the day and hour that the circus arrived on the L4 colonies and was there to meet them. He made his way through what appeared to be a disorganized mess to the familiar Bloom/Barton trailer. He rapped twice before entering. Catherine looked up from her task and smiled warmly at him. 

"Quatre!" she declared before greeting him with a hug. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she pulled away and saw the flour residue she left on him. 

"It's alright," he smilingly assured her. 

"Let me dust you off," she insisted as she grabbed a towel to brush the powder off of him. 

While she worked, Quatre found he could not keep from grinning at her. Her touch stirred feelings in him that he was scared to identify, but he did not want her to stop. 

"There," she stated upon finishing her task. 

"Are you and Trowa free for dinner tonight?" Quatre asked. 

"Possibly," she replied. 

"I want to take the two of you out, my treat," he explained. "Think of it as a thank you gift for allowing me to stay with you." 

"I think that can be arranged," said Trowa entering the room. 

Quatre genuinely smiled at his friend and could see the relief in Trowa's face as he assessed Quatre's mental state. 

"I'm glad to see the sparkle is back in your eyes," Trowa observed. 

"Time does heal," Quatre admitted. "Is six too early?" 

"That is fine," answered Trowa. "Where?" 

"I'll pick you up and dress up?" he winked mischievously before leaving with a wave to his friends. 

He found the smile Catherine gave him on leaving caused something to stir in his chest, something he thought was dead. 

~ 

That evening Quatre picked them up. Trowa was dressed in a suit and tie while Catherine was in a simple, dark forest green, sleeveless dress. Quatre caught himself staring at her shapely legs that extended below the skirt and flushed slightly at the idea of him checking Catherine out. 

They arrived at the restaurant, were seated, and ordered. Over the meal they talked and laughed. Well, Quatre and Catherine did most of the talking with comments here or there from Trowa, but that was normal. 

Catherine excused herself from the table, and Quatre could not keep from watching her walk to the restroom. Trowa cleared his throat to attract Quatre's attention. 

"Did you say something?" inquired Quatre innocently. 

"I said that I should just stay home next time." 

Quatre blinked at his friend in confusion. 

"Quatre, it is obvious that you are interested in her," pointed out Trowa as he slightly gestured in the direction Catherine had disappeared. 

"I can't be," protested Quatre. "It has only been close to eight months since Rachel's death." 

Trowa chuckled to himself. 

"What do you feel in here when you see her?" asked Trowa pointing to Quatre's chest. 

"I feel… I feel…" Quatre stuttered as he honestly examined what he felt when he was with Catherine. "My heart feels alive again." He admitted. "It feels warm and vibrant, connected." 

Trowa gave him an "I told you look." 

"But… but I can't have romantic feelings for you sister." 

"Why not?" 

Quatre could not come up with a good answer. 

"You obviously do," added Trowa. "We are in L4 for over a month. Take the opportunity to take her out and see if it will work out between the two of you. It will do both of you some good." 

"What are you two so seriously discussing?" asked Catherine upon returning. 

"Life," answered Trowa as she sat. 

~ 

Trowa's words seemed to challenge Quatre to examine his feelings for the rest of the evening. Whenever she looked at him, his heart seemed to pound a bit faster and dance within his chest. Maybe he should follow Trowa's advice. 

~ 

Quatre showed up at their first performance. He noticed that their young students were performing more of the acts that Trowa and Catherine had previously performed. He inquired about it when he caught up to Catherine afterwards. 

"They are just something's that should be left to the young," answered Catherine. 

"Your not that old," protested Quatre. 

"No, I'm not, but repeated injuries take their toll over time," she smiled at him. 

"What are you going to do if you can't perform anymore?" 

"I can continue to teach, or maybe I will runaway and join the rest of the world in what ever they do?" she laughed. "There is no need for you to worry about us, Quatre." 

"Oh," was all he said as he tried to look at anything but her. "You want to go on a walk with me?" he finally managed to ask. 

"Sure, I'll get Trowa," she said. 

"I was thinking maybe just the two of us," he said before she could take off. 

"Oh… I see," she said. 

Quatre held his breath for her reaction. He felt like a kid again who was unsure of what to do. 

"We can do that," she smiled. 

The two set out on a stroll. There was silence between them at first, but a lively conversation soon erupted as they swapped stories about Trowa and their childhood's. They laughed a lot by the time they returned to the circus. 

"Goodnight," said Quatre before Catherine vanished into her trailer. 

"Everything go well?" asked a voice close behind him. 

Quatre jumped at Trowa's unexpected presence. 

"She agreed to have lunch with me on Saturday," Quatre answered with a smirk. 

Trowa chuckled, "Good, but I have to warn you, if you hurt her I will have to come after you." 

"You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone," protested Quatre. 

"I know you wouldn't," said Trowa. "It's just my brotherly duty to tell that to all of her dates," he teased. "Good luck on Saturday." 

~ 

The weeks rolled by, and the blond was often seen in Catherine's company. They both seemed to blossom in the other's presence, and more than Trowa noticed it. 

~ 

Quatre and Catherine finished watching a movie at Quatre's and went to the kitchen to fix Sundays. Quatre dipped the ice cream into two bowls while Catherine gathered the toppings and placed them on the table. 

Catherine spooned butterscotch onto her ice cream. Using her finger, she wiped up the sweet that was clinging to the side of the bowl then stuck her finger into her mouth to sample the topping. 

Quatre watched her childlike action and smiled before reaching for the nuts. Catherine and Quatre's hands moved for the nuts at the same time only to find each other's hand. The physical contact caused them to look into each other's eyes. The emotion and anticipation could be felt in the air as they intently focused on each other. They both moved closer till their lips meet. 

The butterscotch still lingered on Catherine's lips and Quatre wanted to ravish her mouth until the last hint of the flavoring was gone. They finally pulled apart. 

"Ice-cream," breathlessly whispered Catherine, "will melt." 

Quatre laughed. They finished making their Sundays and ate them at the table. 

Quatre dropped her off at home after their date. Catherine leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek before getting out. 

"Thanks, Quatre. See you in a few days," she said before walking away. 

Quatre grinned to himself. 

~ 

"Nice time?" asked Trowa when Catherine entered their living quarters. 

"Yeah," she said dreamily. 

Trowa chuckled at her state of bliss. She shot him a questioning glare. 

"You have fallen hard for him," he stated. 

"I guess I have," she sighed as she plopped down beside Trowa. "What am I going to do when we leave in a few weeks?" she asked with the sudden realization of the upcoming separation from Quatre. 

Trowa slipped an arm around her shoulders. 

"You will work something out," he assured. 

"I suppose you are right," she sighed. 

~ 

"Quatre, I leave in a week," Catherine said as they cuddled on the couch. 

"I know," he replied softly. 

"What are we going to do?" 

"Well… we have several option. We can attempt a long distance relationship and see each other when we can, or drop it entirely…" 

Quatre smirked at the violently opposed reaction from Catherine to the second option. 

"I don't like that one either," he said turning to her and running a hand down her cheek. "You have taken my dead heart and given it life again," he admitted. "If you were to exit my life forever, I don't think I could go on." 

He could see the tears gather in the corners of her eyes at his confession. 

"The other option is you could marry me," he said looking at her expectantly. 

"Marry you?" she questioned as his words sank in. Her eyes glowed with excitement before she answered. "I think I like that option the best. So if you are asking, I accept." 

Quatre grinned from ear to ear before catching his new fiancée up in an embrace. 

"We have to get you a ring," Quatre insisted after releasing her. 

The newly engaged couple was soon out the door and headed to the jewelry store. After almost an hour, they found a ring that both of them were happy with. They then went to tell Trowa. 

They excitingly entered the trailer in search of Trowa. They found him immediately, but they both froze at the sight before them. 

"Sara!" gasped Quatre in shock. 

Sara straddled Trowa's lap, and the two were making out enthusiastically. 

"Quatre!" greeted Sara as she leaned away from Trowa. "Catherine!" How are you?" 

"Fine," sputtered Catherine. "When? How?" 

"Let's see. We became friends when he came to visit after the funeral. Even though I wanted to jump him then, I deemed it inappropriate." 

Quatre looked even more shocked at his sister's statement. 

"We keep in touch to keep tabs of Blondie over there," she smirked as she playfully referred to Quatre, "and since Trowa had been in town, we have expanded the relationship a bit," she explained as she settled in beside Trowa. 

"Oh," said Catherine. "You didn't tell me," she accused waving a hand at Trowa. 

"You had other things on your mind," he shrugged. 

Quatre sank into an empty chair. 

"I can't believe I missed it," Quatre said stunned. 

"You have been preoccupied too," pointed out Trowa. 

"I guess," Quatre sighed. 

"Anyway, I thought if you are going to take his sister, he should get one of yours in return," Sara teased before noticing the ring on Catherine's hand. "He asked you?" she questioned with excitement in her voice as she garbed Catherine's hand. 

"Yes," she beamed. 

"That's wonderful. Cangrats!" said Catherine's exuberant future sister-in-law. "You owe me 10 bucks, buddy," she told Trowa. 

"I know," he smiled, "but it is ten dollars worth loosing 

~ The End ~ 

(1) From Webster's dictionary - Defenestration: the act of throwing a thing or esp. a person out of a window. 

It is a cool word that I wanted to fit into a story. 

Author's Notes: If anyone cares, I wrote most of this story on vacation a few weeks back, and the entire traffic problem in the story was because of my frustration at the traffic flow on our way to our destination. We found it faster to get off the interstates and take the hi-ways than to fight with all the after holiday traffic and RVs. Yuck! So if it seems sill, sorry, I just needed to blow off a bit of frustration. 

Please Review! 


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